


What the Muggles Don't Know

by jadztone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Halloween, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27317188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadztone/pseuds/jadztone
Summary: Muggles love to pretend to be scared by spooky things at Halloween.  For some wizards, the spooky things are all too real.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	What the Muggles Don't Know

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea today and decided to try and write it out and publish it before Halloween is done. As a result, I've barely proofread it and didn't do any sort of britpick. I may come back later and clean it up a little. Please don't tell me that the Brits don't have shops like Spirit Halloween or whatever. They probably don't, but it's important to the plot, haha.

“Hallo, Harry! Got a moment?”

Harry looked up from his perusal of the latest report on dark wizard sightings. Neville turned in his chair that was sat across from Harry’s desk to see Arthur Weasley standing in the doorway. “Of course, Mr. Weasley! What’s up?”

Arthur stepped into the room. “I just got back from lunch with my friend Whitby who works in the Improper Use of Magic Office. He, uh…was telling me all about the wizard they brought in this morning who caused a scene at a muggle shop. They’ve tried interrogating him to find out why he did it, but he’s refusing to speak.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Who is it?”

Arthur’s smile twisted a little. “Draco Malfoy.” 

Both Harry and Neville froze. Harry heaved a sigh. “Was anyone hurt?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, the only damage was to a display. Interestingly enough, the shop was one of those that sells Halloween decorations. The damage to the display was easy enough to repair and only the employees had to be obliviated as the customers all thought it was something the shop did for publicity. All in all, it was settled with very little fuss. The only reason Malfoy is still here is because protocol demands that they take a statement before fining him and sending him home.”

Neville snorted. “But because he’s being a stubborn git, they’re at an impasse.”

Arthur smiled ruefully. “Indeed. Whitby was hoping that maybe you could talk to him, Harry.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Why me?”

Arthur cleared his throat and appeared to be fighting a grin. “Well, um. I think Whitby might have gotten a few ideas from that biography Skeeter wrote about you.”

Harry groaned and Neville snorted again. Skeeter implied in her book that the rivalry between Draco and Harry had been because of some sort of unresolved sexual tension. “Oh come on, Mr. Weasley. Did you remind him that I’m marrying your daughter in less than two months?”

Arthur shrugged, and Neville suspected it was to mask the fact that his shoulders were shaking from suppressed laughter. “Oh of course. But, as Whitby pointed out, the two of you weren’t dating while at Hogwarts.”

Neville gave Harry a devilish look. “He’s right. There were other witches and wizards you were attracted to before things got serious with Ginny.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “Draco wasn’t one of them! I’m not even remotely interested in a waifish…pointy-faced…pale git like Malfoy!”

Neville scoffed. “Oh, come on, don’t try to pretend that Malfoy isn’t ridiculously good-looking.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Irrelevant. You know my type. Tall and athletic, like Cedric or Viktor.” Arthur cleared his throat, his ears pink. Harry grinned. “And Ginny, of course.”

Neville cocked his head. “So you never found Malfoy appealing? At all?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Is that a note of incredulity in your voice, Neville? Are you saying that you yourself aren’t immune to his…charms?” Harry grimaced, and it was clear that he was telling the truth about not finding Draco attractive.

Neville felt a flush creep up his neck as he realized that he’d given himself away. “Uh…”

Harry leaned forward in his seat and drummed his fingers on his desk, a sure sign that he was scheming. “You know, Mr. Weasley… I think the perfect person to interview Malfoy is Neville. He has a way of getting people to talk. His gentle nature disarms them.”

Arthur brightened. “You’re right as usual, Harry! Neville, would you mind helping Whitby out? The poor man was quite distressed at lunchtime. He wasn’t looking forward to having Malfoy glaring at him from across a desk all day. And he really doesn’t want to put Malfoy in a holding cell overnight.”

It was Neville’s turn to sigh. He was a sucker for hard luck cases, and here he wasn’t sure if he was thinking of Whitby or Malfoy. Both, he guessed. “Yeah, alright, I’ll be down there in an hour.”

Arthur beamed. “I’ll send Whitby an inter-office memo so he’ll know to expect you. Cheers!” 

Neville very pointedly picked up the copy of the report they’d been going over before Arthur’s interruption. By Harry’s expression and how readily he was willing to continue their discussion, it was clear he felt a little (but not a lot) remorseful over having roped Neville into seeing Malfoy after he’d all but confessed to his crush on the former Death Eater.

*

After his meeting with Harry was over, Neville reluctantly made his way down to the Improper Use of Magic Office. Whitby thanked him profusely for his assistance, and Neville pointed out that he hadn’t done anything yet. He glanced over at the empty chair across from Whitby. “Oh! As soon as I got Arthur’s memo, I put Mr. Malfoy in the interrogation room. So you’d have more privacy to talk.”

Neville swallowed a groan. He could only imagine how well that went over with Draco, and felt his chances of getting the man to talk decrease. He started to head over to the room in question, then made a detour over to the tiny kitchenette to make a cup of tea as a peace offering. 

When he finally slipped into the tiny room, he was glad he’d thought of the tea. Draco had a haggard appearance, as if he’d been through a greater ordeal than what had been described. His eyes were defiant as he looked up, morphing into surprise and then dread. “Longbottom? Why are they sending an Auror to question me? They told me it wasn’t that bad. I _knew_ they were lying!”

Neville set the tea in front of him. “They weren’t lying, Malfoy. Your infraction really is quite minor. They only asked me to talk to you because we know each other. Whitby thought a familiar face might help.”

Draco sneered. “Let me guess, he thought gentle and quiet Neville Longbottom was the perfect one to soothe the savage beast.”

Neville wasn’t about to tell him that Whitby’s first choice had actually been Harry, and only because of an erroneous belief that they had _feelings_ for each other. “I’m no Hagrid. Soothing savage _plants_ is more my area.”

Draco gave him a speculative look. “So I’ve heard. My mother was telling me all about the articles you’ve written for Herbology Monthly. Makes me wonder why you’re _here_ , of all places.”

Neville blinked. “I…um…that’s not relevant. What’s important is establishing why _you’re_ here.” Draco’s expression shuttered. “Oh, come on, Malfoy. Why are you refusing to cooperate? Do you _like_ hanging around this musty old place? Do you know how far underground we are at the moment? All you have to do is make your statement, pay your fine, and you’ll be back up into the sunshine in no time at all.”

Draco’s brow wrinkled. “It’s been raining all morning.”

Neville pinched his nose. “Draco…” He winced a little when he realized he addressed the other informally.

Draco’s expression softened a bit. He heaved a gust of air and looked up at the ceiling, as if contemplating just how many stories below the earth they truly were. “That’s the beginning of my statement, alright? It was raining all morning. Coming down so hard that I couldn’t see where I was going and I went into the wrong shop.” He pulled the tea towards him and took a sip. His shoulders seemed to loosen.

“I saw it was one of those ridiculous muggle Halloween shops. Have you any idea what they’re like when it comes to Halloween? The sort of things they think are… _cute_ to set up around their homes because they’re too dimwitted to know that such things really exist? And are an actual _threat_ to their lives?”

Neville wasn’t a betting man, but he was confident he could make a lot of galleons off the guess he was about to make. “The display you destroyed…did it have werewolves?”

Draco was unable to stop the flinch that shook his thin frame and sent a small splash of tea over the rim of his cup. His eyes darted up, widening a little as he gazed at Neville.

Neville took out a handkerchief and gently blotted the spilled tea. “I have a bad memory for a lot of things, but that punishment in the Forbidden Forest our first year will stay with me forever. Especially what you said about werewolves, since it made me see you in a different light.”

Draco’s lips tightened. “You mean as a coward?”

Neville shook his head. “As more human. It was eye opening to realize that someone I feared could be afraid of something himself.”

Draco huffed. “Well, first year was a long time ago. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean your fear wasn’t legitimate. It’s as you say, muggles have no idea that werewolves are real. And a threat. You learned that firsthand, didn’t you?”

Draco’s face crumpled. “My father let them into our _home_. I know he was afraid. He knew there were worse things that could happen if he didn’t comply. But I still felt the horror of seeing that… _animal_ roaming our hallways.”

Neville could have pointed out that there was already an animal roaming the halls – Draco’s own father – but he kept it to himself.

Almost as if he could read Neville’s mind, Draco lifted his chin. Defiance gleamed in his eyes. “The werewolves in that _stupid_ display looked nothing like the real thing. It was just…when I opened the door to the shop, there was a flash of lighting and a gust of wind and…one of them moved. I guess some sort of instinct kicked in and I had my wand out before I knew what I was doing.” 

Neville gave him an assessing look. “Why didn’t you disapparate?” Draco gave him a questioning look. “There isn’t a trace on adult wizards. You could have left the scene and they’d have had a hard time finding out who did it.”

Draco’s face flushed and he looked down, an expression of self-disgust on his face. “It didn’t take me long to realize that they weren’t real, but it triggered too many awful memories and I lost consciousness. Apparently I knocked over a display of plastic cauldrons. That’s how your pal Whitby found me.”

Neville brought his hand to his mouth and attempted to look contemplative as he bit down hard on his knuckle to contain his laughter. “Well, um…I think that’s quite enough for a statement. I’ll write it up and you can look it over for accuracy and sign it. Then pay the fine and you’re free to go.”

Draco gave a jerky nod. Neville stood up. “I’m not saying this as a representative of the Ministry, but I really think it would do you a world of good if you talked to someone. A professional.” Draco glared up at him. “I’ve been seeing a therapist for a couple years now and it’s helped a lot.”

The glare melted slightly. “Why did you say you're not representing your employer?”

Neville looked away. “The Ministry doesn’t like to acknowledge the trauma suffered in the War. They avoid anything that might look like admitting culpability. The only clean-up they’ve taken part in is seeking out dark wizards…but that’s always been a Ministry responsibility.” He scowled.

Draco stood up as well. “Doesn’t sound like you have much regard for your employer. Why are you even an Auror, anyway, when you’re so bloody good with those plants?”

Neville ignored his question, even as it sent a pang through him. “I can recommend a therapist for you. Someone who’s in the same practice as mine.”

Draco huffed. “I do acknowldge I should talk to someone. But I don’t think I’m ready to do that in any official capacity.”

Neville worried his lower lip with his teeth, and noticed that Draco’s eyes dropped to his mouth. Giving the scraped flesh a swipe of his tongue to soothe it, he decided to take a chance. “What about unofficially?” Draco’s eyes dragged up and he blinked questioningly. “You can talk to me, if you like.”

Draco stared at him a long time, and then his lips curved in a tentative smile. “Yeah, all right. Maybe I could take you out for a pint, tonight? As a thank you for bursting my bubble of pride and getting me out of here sooner than I would have otherwise?”

Neville nodded and then reached out to squeeze Draco’s shoulder. “I’d like that.”


End file.
